


A Cat School Education

by RedEris



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Orgy, Praise Kink, Young Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEris/pseuds/RedEris
Summary: A young Geralt encounters a distinctive trio of Cat School witchers in an inn. They're very taken with a young White Wolf, and know just how to show their appreciation.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 274





	A Cat School Education

**Author's Note:**

> Look my dudes Geralt likes to sleep with people who can kick his ass.

The kikimore husk was still cooling by Roach’s saddle in the stables, and already Geralt had had to sit through two bile-filled rants on the vileness of witchers tonight. There’d been one five nights ago, too, and since then he hadn’t dared a tavern til tonight. When the tankard hit the other side of the table, sloshing foam onto the table, he looked up, braced for a third helping of abuse.

Instead, he met golden cat eyes over a broad, toothy grin.

“Look at that, boys. The white Wolf, just like they said. Isn’t he something?”

To his left, someone chuckled. Three men, made bulky with armor, sat on the bench across from him. Three sets of golden eyes studied him. Not one but three unfamiliar witchers.

“Name’s Cruan,” said the darkest of the three, gesturing at himself.

“Finnian,” the tall blonde offered.

“And I’m Aleksy,” finished the first speaker, smiling through his ruddy beard. “Cat School, at your service.”

“Geralt,” Geralt grunted.

“Imagine our surprise,” continued Aleksy, “when at the last village we found that someone had already come through and popped off all the contracts. A fellow, they said, young of face but white haired, pale skinned like a wraith, wolf medallion. And here he is, as described!”

“Plenty of contracts to go around,” Geralt said.

“Ah, no, you misunderstand me. No offense is taken or meant, but how could we pass up the chance to meet a new brother? Congenial company isn’t so common on the Path that we’d pass some up. And we’re always happy to meet a new witcher.” Aleksy’s smile was just a little too broad, as if there were a joke here that Geralt didn’t get yet.

“He’s a young one,” Finnian cut in, abrupt.

All three Cats considered this for a moment.

“I believe you’re right, my good man. Look at that smooth skin. Is it all unmarked like that, I wonder.”

“Not all,” said Geralt, still wary, bridling at being talked about to his face.

“Very young,” Finnian concluded. “How many years on the Path, Wolf?”

Geralt would have preferred not to answer, but given the choice between lying and refusing--  
“My third,” he answered.

“The kikimore out there is yours?” the one called Cruan asked, voice deep and soft. “That’s a respectable kill for three years out.”

“I took it by surprise,” Geralt offered, shrugging.

“And that’s the best way,” said Aleksy, taking the conversation back. “All that white hair and pallor you’ve got there--very striking. You start that way?”

“No,” Geralt said. After a second’s consideration, he added, “Extra round of mutagens.”

Cruan sucked his teeth in sympathy. Aleksy nodded. “Impressive. Any other effects?”

“More of the same, I guess. Speed, strength, stamina.”

All three men smiled broadly. Geralt had the sudden conviction that he had misstepped somehow.

“Is that so? I’d love to see those in action. Wouldn’t you, boys?” Aleksy nudged Finnian.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a lovely sight,” Finnian purred.

And suddenly Geralt knew what the creeping feeling was. 

He was being stalked.

“I like women,” he said, abrupt.

“Sure, and why wouldn’t you? Love ‘em, myself. All that softness for the grabbing.” Finnian gestured suggestively. “But you can’t tell me that all you Wolf pups were celibate, up there in your mountain fastness.” Aleksy laughed.

“You’ve put his back up, you thirsty fucks. It’s alright, man,” Cruan rumbled softly. “None of us wants anything you don’t. The Path can be a lonely place, no point denying it. Could be less lonely tonight.”

Geralt sorted through the various scents of the inn, and found it immediately--a thread of arousal, strong and masculine and heady. He felt his heart as it sped up, betraying him to the other three. 

Three sets of yellow eyes watched him steadily.

“We’re not celibate, no,” he said at last.

It was cautious enough, as invitations went, but they understood. All three shifted closer. The inn began to feel unreasonably hot to Geralt. 

“Good,” Cruan murmured. “Now, seeing as we all understand each other, why don’t we spend a bit getting to know each other?” He stood up, and this time, Geralt’s mind insisted on cataloguing it all--broad shoulders, tawny skin, glossy black ringlets cropped close to his head. Sharp cheekbones and jaw. He stepped around the end of the table until he stood at Geralt’s shoulder. “Is this seat taken?”

“Is now,” Geralt said, keeping his voice steady.

Cruan smiled, eyes warm, and sat down. When he was settled, his thigh pressed against the length of Geralt’s own.

“Is this your game, then?” Geralt asked Aleksy. “You two come sniffing round with your teeth showing, he plays the guardian knight, you all split the kill?”

Finnian laughed, again, approving. The web of fine wrinkles that cut along his freckled cheeks and fanned out from the corners of his eyes was well-worn--and ridiculously attractive. “Nah,” said Aleksy. “Cruan really is nicer than us. Always a soft touch, all saving of fuzzy bunnies and such. But he’s right. We’re in it for a good night, whatever that turns into. If you’d rather play Gwent, we'll enjoy the view and we won’t go to bed lonely, and Finnian here has a killer deck. If you’d rather.” But under the table, Geralt felt a leg snake between his, sliding slowly. 

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much need to choose just one or the other,” Geralt offered, shifting to let the leg roam further. “Though my deck isn’t much, if I’m honest. Not a lot of experience at the game, either.” Somewhere in the midst of the sentence, he realized that he wasn’t only talking about cards.

“Oh, and now Alec is trying to pull one over on you,” Cruan said. “Finnian’s a pure demon with those cards. I think he killed for a few of them. Show me your deck and we’ll play him together. Friendly stakes. That suit you, pet?”

Geralt’s first thought was that he ought to be angry at the diminutive--but. But he wasn’t. No, not angry. _Pet_. The intimacy of it sent a spike of a hunger sharper than lust through him. And of course, now they'd know that, too. Damn witchers.

He took a long pull on his ale and told himself that he was a witcher too, blooded many times over, and not a blushing teenager, not a little boy starving for kind words. The musk of lust smelled so heavy to him that he had to remind himself that to the others in the inn, they were just four witchers sharing a drink.

Geralt shrugged. “Suits me fine, oh noble knight.”

A broad hand smoothed over his thigh, fingertips teasing along the inner seam of his pants. “We’re going to have a lovely evening, pet. Let’s see those cards.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt started the play terribly, and it only got worse. His deck was ludicrously outmatched, and by the third round he hardly knew what he was doing anyway. Cruan’s hands were everywhere, always gentle, always casual, always somehow touching him. Their laughter filled his ears, honest and easy and sounding of the home he’d had to leave. His skin was buzzing and he felt like he was an empty bottle of White Gull into the night, and not just a few mugs of ale. When he conceded the game, it took an enormous effort to seem appropriately casual. Especially when they all knew it was a bald-faced pretence, when they could smell him, could hear his heartbeat. Cruan’s fingers had thoroughly mapped the straining ridge of his cock through his pants.

“Thank you for the game, friend,” Finnian said, smirking as he gathered up his cards. “And our wager?”

“It’s--” he broke off, huffing, as Cruan’s hand crept further down. “In my room. Upstairs.” He knew he was hiding nothing as it was, so he owned it, pushing back from the table and standing up, erection unmistakable.

Finnian tossed the barkeep some coin as they passed, and then they were up the stairs, and Geralt was showing them to his room and closing the door behind them. He locked it, and then turned, back to the wood, and looked back at the three sets of yellow eyes, and all his bravado fled him.

Not celibate, no. But hardly experienced. No point denying it; they’d know soon enough anyway.

“Just so we’re on the same...on the same page, uh...I don’t--”

“Have to do anything you aren’t absolutely burning to do. Or anything at all. We can go, you can watch, whatever you like.” Finnian smiled and held his hands up, palms out.

“I may spontaneously combust if we don’t do _something_ damned soon,” Geralt fired back, forcing himself to step further into the little room, crowding nearer to the other three men.

“Well we can’t have that,” Cruan laughed. “So, boys, let's consider what we have on our hands.” As he spoke, he circled, until he was murmuring into Geralt’s ear from behind, his chest against the backs of Geralt’s shoulders. 

Finnian chuckled. “I think watching you do this is the best part,” he said. Something about his tone made Geralt nervous all over again.

“The question is,” Cruan murmured against the shell of Geralt’s ear, “what do you want? Because what we want is to give it to you.” Geralt shifted and opened his mouth, and Cruan laid a finger across it, moving to pull Geralt’s bottom lip down just a shade. “Nah nah nah, let me work on it a bit first, and you can tell me if I’m right.

“Extra mutagens--always that bit stronger, faster, better than your fellows. But your gear’s all perfectly kept, and you’re out here taking bigger prey than you need to, so you didn’t fight it. I’ll wager you were such a good boy. But when the other boys were off jerking each other in the laundry closet, did you join them?”

Geralt, curious to see where this was going, snorted quietly. “No.”

He felt Cruan smile against his neck. “Didn’t think so.”

Finnian had made quick work of his own kit and was now in his wrinkled shirtsleeves, lanky, narrow-hipped, corded with lean muscle. He raised an eyebrow as he made to start on Geralt’s buckles, and Geralt nodded his consent.

“No,” Cruan went on, “you didn’t. Because you didn’t want to be sucked up to”--here, Aleksy laughed and Finnian rolled his eyes-- “and you didn’t want fear and you didn’t want teenaged fumblings, hmmm? But I’ve an idea you didn’t have to wait too long for someone to come off the Path to winter, and notice that you’d got these lovely man’s shoulders on you, and these lovely long lashes.”

Geralt’s training kept his face still, but hearing this stranger murmur his life into his ear was sending a mad buzzing up his spine.

“You didn’t come upstairs with three strange witchers because you thought you were going to be the big man in the room. You’re here because you’re hungry--for a kind word, for a friendly face. For someone who won’t be afraid. But what you want most, _pet_ , is someone to take charge.”

Geralt _wanted_ to brush it off, deny it, need nothing. But what he _did_ was shudder all over and twitch violently against his straining laces.

“And there’s another notch in Cruan’s belt,” crowed Aleksy from the bed. “Give it up, boy, he’s never wrong.”

“Not saying he’s wrong, not saying he’s right,” Geralt ground out. But his body seemed pretty convinced. This was going to take some careful digesting in quiet moments later on. Right now, the gentle pressure of Cruan’s hand cupping his chin from behind, fingers resting against his throat, took too much attention.

“Tell you what, pet. Here’s what I’d like to do. I'd like to strip you bare. I’d like to touch every inch of that beautiful body, and then I’d like to kiss it.” As he spoke, Finnian’s nimble fingers set aside the last of Geralt’s armor and went to work on his laces. “Like to watch these two kiss you too. I’d like to show you a few things about what a mouth can do that you might not know. And then--mmm--I’d like to put you on your knees and see if you’re a fast learner.” His hands stroked over Geralt’s hips, sliding down the hidden ridges of muscle under his stomach. “After that, who knows. We’ve got all night to see about testing that stamina. Does any of that sound good to you?” he whispered.

Geralt’s breath was coming in ridiculously fast little gasps now, and he had to hold one for a moment to gather himself. “Solid plan,” he managed, and finished with a sharp nod.

Finnian tucked one hand behind his back and held the other out, bowing slightly. His eyes twinkled. “May I have the first kiss?” Half-distracted by Cruan's hands on his shoulders, Geralt took the hand and pulled Finnian in. He had a split second to be self-conscious over his chapped lips before they met and he forgot.

Cruan at his back, Finnian pressed hard against his front, he felt surrounded, but somehow not trapped. Hands moved all over him, the last of his clothing almost floating away under expert fingers. Finnian’s mouth was teasingly gentle, pressing and then opening slightly against his, and he would have been embarrassed for them to know how his face buzzed and tingled at the touch. He was leaning in, sucking hungrily at Finnian’s lip, when Cruan’s hand slipped up his chest, and he realized fully that he was naked. Breaking away, he began to undo Finnian’s trousers. Aleksy had taken his own kit off and was lounging on the small bed, shirtless, hand in his pants, smiling lazily as he watched.

Hot skin slid over his own. Cruan nuzzled into his neck, kissing, and caught an earlobe in gentle teeth. Geralt gasped, and felt Cruan’s chuckle puff against his shoulder. “So pale,” Cruan whispered. “Fascinating. Boys, I want to spoil this one rotten.” Finnian hummed agreement against Geralt’s stomach, and Aleksy nodded on the bed.

Geralt’s head swam, trying to take in everything, take in too much--four heartbeats, his as fast as an ordinary human’s now, heavy breathing, the scents of horse and pine and sweat and somewhere, soaked into someone’s armor, blood. Hands and mouths moving over him, light and persistent. The taste of ale on Finnian’s tongue and the shuffle of fabric as Aleksy ran his hand inattentively up and down his cock. And then Cruan’s hands drifted down and calloused fingers closed around his cock and a shiver grabbed him and shook him top to bottom.

Things were a blur for a while after that. Geralt thought nothing; he only sensed. They laid him back over the bed between Aleksy’s legs, back against his broad chest. Finnian crawled up next to them, stroking and admiring Geralt’s cock, while Aleksy ran his hands over Geralt’s chest and the ridges of his stomach and Cruan stripped, slowly revealing a thickly muscled, softly padded body. And then Cruan knelt between his legs and his mouth closed over Geralt’s cock and Geralt closed his eyes and did nothing but _feel_.

Twice, Cruan brought him to the brink, to panting and whining and fighting desperately not to buck. Twice, smirking around his cock, Cruan stopped and held him back, sucking lazily before building up again, tutting at Geralt’s growled demands. After the second time, at a nod from Cruan, Finnian shifted, kneeling over Geralt.

“You ready to show that you can learn, pet?” Finnian ran a thumb along Geralt’s lower lip to make his meaning clear, other hand moving on his own rigid cock.

“'M not completely ignorant,” Geralt growled. In fact he felt reasonably confident of this bit. The boys had always joked that this was the only benefit of all that training in breath control and not gagging up vile potions, so you might as well make the most of it.

Finnian's cock was silken soft against his lips, and Geralt took a moment just to nuzzle it, to appreciate the heaviness of it, the contrast of soft and hard. He lapped at it, and Finnian purred and ran his fingers gently through Geralt's hair. Then Geralt swallowed him down, burying his nose in Finnian's red curls, relishing the fullness as the tip pushed into his throat. The fingers in his hair tightened convulsively.

“Ah, what a sight,” crooned Aleksy behind him. “What a wonderful creature you are!” Geralt's head buzzed with the praise and the pain and the airlessness, and then Cruan went to work again on his cock.

It was awkward, though, moving his head where he lay reclined against Aleksy, with Finnian over him. He turned his face upwards to make sure Finnian was paying attention, and then grabbed the man's ass and pulled forward, very insistently. Finnian slid into his mouth in response, and when he rocked back out, Geralt tugged him back in.

“Are you sure, pet?” Finnian asked.

Geralt scowled as best he could around a mouth full of cock and dug his fingers into Finnian's ass harder. And Finnian obliged, and began to fuck his face in long, steady strokes. Geralt moaned involuntarily. 

It was too much, this. Cruan on his cock, his mouth full, Aleksy whispering a steady stream of praise in his ear as his clever fingers roamed Geralt's chest. Cruan matched pace as Finnian sped up and grew rougher, until Finnian crested with a muffled shout, and the first hot spurt in Geralt's throat sent him rocketing over the edge.

He had never come so hard in his life. It came in waves, each stronger than the one before, until some tiny hopelessly submerged part of his mind was actually afraid that the next one would shatter him. Aleksy held him fast against his chest as Cruan worked him through wave after wave, until at last he came down, heart pounding, muscles shaking, and Finnian's seed all over his face.

He just lay there, catching his breath, as Finnian rolled to the side and Cruan stood up, wiping his mouth and grinning.

“That was one of the finest things I've ever seen,” said Finnian, slumping against the wall. Cruan knelt on the edge of the bed and carefully cleaned Geralt's face with a shirt-tail. Geralt was too spent to do anything but lay back on Aleksy's chest and let him.

“We'll see if we can't do as well again before the night's over,” he said. “But for now, let's give him a moment.” Cruan stroked a stray lock of hair out of Geralt's face and kissed him on the forehead. A strangely chaste gesture, and yet it sent another buzz of pleasure through Geralt.

"Give us a taste, will you Cru?" Aleksy crooned. Obliging, Cruan leaned across Geralt to kiss Aleksy. Moving languidly, Geralt reached for Cruan's cock and stroked it. 

"Is it Aleksy's turn?" he asked. 

Aleksy broke free of the kiss to nuzzle at Geralt's ear, while Cruan dragged wet lips across Geralt's cheek to catch his mouth. Geralt could taste himself, saltier and less sweet than Finnian had been. 

"Nah, lad," Finnian answered. "Alec here likes to watch and touch and maybe help things along here and there. He's a bit bent but we like him for it." Alec ran his hands along Geralt's thighs, teasing at his half-soft cock with light fingertips, and hummed agreement.

"You, then," Geralt growled, nipping at Cruan's lip.

"Oh aye, it's _all_ my turn. But I'm a patient sort. Don't fret, pet. We'll take what we want. Just you worry about stop and go on."

Geralt's cock made an abrupt turnaround, lurching against Alec's fingertips.

"I wager he'd be lovely in rope," Alec said. "Pity we haven't got a proper bed."

Geralt's traitor cock agreed again.

"Tell me, lovely, have you ever taken a cock?" Cruan said.

Geralt nodded.

"And how'd you find it?"

"... Had potential."

"Someone didn't show you the appreciation you deserve, then. Mind if I see about exploring that potential?"

"Don't mind a bit," Geralt said. Which he didn't, but he had… reservations. It hadn't been exactly _good_ before, only _potentially_ good. There had been a moment or three. But even that was well in the past, now. He took a steadying breath.

Finnian leaned over and licked a stripe up Geralt's neck. "You say stop, we all stop."

"Don't fucking stop."

Cruan and Finnian both smiled hungrily.

"Alec, care to stretch your legs?"

Obeying Cruan's implicit direction, Aleksy slid out from under Geralt, and he and Finnian lowered Geralt to the narrow bed. Aleksy padded over to a pile of their things, and Geralt saw him pull out a little lidded pot.

“Finn, entertain our lovely Wolf?”

Grinning, Finnian leaned in for a long, slow kiss. Geralt was absorbed in the drag of tongue over lip, of Finnian’s calloused hands playing over his chest, thumbing the head of his cock, wandering up to rub circles over his nipple, and lost track of what the other two were doing. By now, his cock had made a full recovery.

Then another, larger hand cupped his balls, and a slick finger ran down to tease at his entrance. He flinched, ever so slightly, but the finger only circled and rubbed.

“Finn, lend a mouth?”

As before, Finnian obeyed Cruan without hesitation. Head bowing over Geralt, he lapped at him and then sucked him in. Geralt bucked up, and when he came back down, Cruan’s finger slipped right in.

At first, it was intrusive and uncomfortable. His body didn't know what to make of it, caught between Finnian's skillful mouth and this new distraction. But Geralt remembered before, those moments when he'd felt something else entirely. He sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly. He squirmed experimentally, and Cruan pushed further inside him.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Cruan crooned over Finnian’s bobbing head. “How you doing, pet?”

“More,” Geralt rasped.

“Never fear, I’ll take care of you,” Cruan replied. His free hand rubbed gentle patterns over Finnian’s back and ass. Smiling, he pulled back the first finger, and slipped in another. “Now then, let’s see…”

Cruan fucked his fingers into Geralt, not slowly, and as Geralt relaxed himself, the slide of those fingers started to take on a new feel. He heard himself whimper, and twisted his hips urgently. Cruan held Geralt's eyes over Finnian's back, and thrust deeper. Geralt panted, each thrust knocking another tiny whine out of him, and spiraled towards another orgasm faster than he would have thought possible. It was so close, balancing on the edge of that instant of glorious inevitability.

"Back off, Finn." Cruan slowed his fingers, but didn't quite stop their steady drag in and out of Geralt. Finnian sat up, rocking back on his heels, cock purple against his stomach.

Geralt's shoulders curled off the bed in a little lunge and he growled. Words were too far away.

"Oh pet, I'm not done yet. And neither are you, not until I say you are. Now then, what do you want? Do you want to be done?"

“Fuck me, damn you," Geralt finally managed. "I want it. Do you hear? I want it.” Geralt panted and writhed on Cruan’s fingers, twisting his hips feverishly, trying to gain traction.

“Well, that's what I like to hear.” Cruan scooped a finger full of balm out of the pot, grabbed Geralt's leg under the knee, and almost before Geralt had a chance to protest the loss of his fingers, he had his cock in place, slowly and inexorably pushing. 

Geralt couldn't help it; he tensed against the sheer blunt size of the intrusion. Immediately, Finnian was there, kissing him, tugging lazily at his cock. “Relax. Bear down a bit, and it'll slip right in.” Aleksy added, “Cruan has a magic cock, pup, I promise. Trust us.” And then the head was past that first tight constriction with only a little burn, and pushing deeper and deeper until Geralt felt transfixed, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

He couldn't think. Feeling was too much as it was. He closed his eyes, and his world narrowed down to the steady drag and slide, the overwhelming fullness, the hot spark that grew stronger every time Cruan thrust into him.

Vaguely, he was aware that Aleksy was doing something to Finnian where he couldn’t see, and Finnian’s head was hanging, hair sweaty, breath rasping harsh. He was aware of his knee on Cruan’s shoulder, of Cruan’s hand on his cock, but even that felt secondary compared to the cock impaling and filling him.

“I’m--nggggh,” he managed.

“Yes, pet, you’re going to come. Ah, it’ll be so pretty, you bouncing on my cock, spilling. So very pretty. Now, come for me.” Next to them, Finnian raised unfocused eyes to Geralt’s face and winked. Then he snarled and pushed back into whatever Alesky was up to back there.

Cruan adjusted his grip and snapped his hips forward, and Geralt saw white flashes. The thrusts came hard and fast now, and Geralt could feel it coming, could feel every thrust wind him higher and higher. When the climax came, it felt--different. Not the hot, sharp feeling he was accustomed to, but--deeper. It didn’t come all at once, but bubbled over like the tapping of a spring, pouring from the steady thrust of Cruan’s cock, flooding him, filling every line of him, submerging him, rolling him in endless waves. He scarcely heard Cruan’s little snarl of completion as he spilled into Geralt and kept right on fucking, merciless.

He had no idea how long it lasted, only that when he finished he was drenched in sweat and exhausted. Finnian had collapsed on the bed next to him, Aleksy was folded on the floor, head pillowed on Finn’s leg, smiling drowsily.

“That satisfies the soul, doesn’t it, boys,” Cruan rumbled. The other men made noises of contented agreement. 

“Too beautiful for me,” Finnian murmured. “Sent me right over, that face he made.”

At last, Cruan eased out of Geralt’s body and gently lowered his legs. Geralt became aware of his burning thighs, his thoroughly used ass, but only dully, as a problem for another time.

“Alec,” Cruan said, “lovey, get your kit on and fetch us a basin of water, will you. I have to take care of our pretty pet here.”

Alec rose obediently. Cruan reclaimed the shirt from before, and began to mop Geralt up with aching tenderness. When he’d got the worst of the mess off, he brushed a strand of Geralt’s hair out of his face. 

“You doing alright, Wolf?”

“Never better,” Geralt mumbled. Cruan smiled and turned his attentions to an equally dazed Finnian. Geralt closed his eyes and drifted in warm clouds, still half asleep as they went back over him with a warm, damp cloth.

Later, Geralt felt a hand cradle his cheek, and peered up into surprisingly tender eyes.

“Ach, look at him,” Finnian murmured. “A masterpiece. A marvel. Such a beautiful boy, and they break them and shape them and then dump them out the door to be spat on and cheated.”

Cruan hummed in agreement. “But we've got him tonight, and we know his worth. Sleep, lovely snowy Wolf. You've been perfect.”


End file.
